


Maître

by Zedoktor



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: BDSM, Dominance, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedoktor/pseuds/Zedoktor
Summary: Years of abuse and fear have driven Medic into himself. It takes a master to draw him back out, and Spy is just the right man for the job even if his methods are... unconventional.





	Maître

There are many ways for a man to destroy himself.

Sometimes it’s instant, in the second of a bullet leaving a gun. God knows I saw enough of that, during the war, but it’s more tragic when it happens by inches, over the course of years. Fear. Doubt. Self-loathing. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s doing to himself, only that one day, he wakes up and finds that all the reasons he had to keep living are suddenly gone.

I’ll be condemned, if my team finds out. It’s a betrayal first and a deviancy second, in their eyes. I don’t care. This pathetic wargame we must play is a distraction, nothing more – although I can’t help but observe how he has improved during combat, since we began our relationship. Ironic, no? We kill each other every day, and I save his life when the sun sets.

Tonight is another session. I have plans for him. I arrive early, mostly to switch on the heater and make sure I have everything I may need. I can’t call it a dungeon. An ex-maintenance room, small and largely forgotten, just big enough for a bed and a box and little enough space to move around in? No, I have too much self-respect. Someday, though…

Medic arrives just as I sit down to wait. The uniform is immaculate, despite the bloody fighting earlier. His eyes are immediately on me, even as he closes and locks the door. His red gloves stand out in stark contrast to my blue suit. Always just a little nervous, even while he has become so eager to please.

“Good evening, mon lapin.” I smile at him warmly, and I mean it. “Let us begin.”

I lounge on the bed with my legs crossed while he strips. I haven’t given him any specific instructions, but I don’t need to. This is a familiar process. He trusts me to guide him without the need for questions.

I stand up as he kneels down, naked except for the leather collar around his neck. It’s loose enough to be hidden by his clothes, and so I can get a grip on it if I want. I take his glasses off and place them in the breast pocket of my jacket, then I reach down and cup his face in one hand.

He keeps his flat on the floor between his knees. It’s gratifying to watch him lean into my palm, and rub his face against my fingers. The simple pleasure of me stroking his cheek with my thumb is enough to make his eyes flutter closed. And he enjoys this much, I know, without the guilt that taints his other, darker desires.

“Tell me, lapin, how many times have you touched yourself in the last week?” I ask, lifting his chin gently.

“Four times,” he replies, his eyes adoring me, but I know the hint of troubled feeling lying behind them. Hmm. It’s still an improvement. It wasn’t so long ago that he was too tormented by his own inner demons to masturbate at all.

My hand leaves his face for a moment, and I retrieve the flogger from the box. His expression changes slightly; a little more pleading, a little more hungry. I don’t even need to give the command at this point. He drops his shoulders, and offers up his back and his ass.

The feeling of power is intoxicating. Of course I get an erection, but I ignore it for now. My attention is on the judgement of each stroke, and the sound of every painful gasp, and the satisfaction of the red welts appearing on his skin. He doesn’t cry out. I go harder, pushing his limits, until he clutches blindly at my leg and buries his face against my thigh. His shoulders tremble, and his breath is quick and labored when I stop. I lift his head again, and he blinks away tears.

I would normally postpone the use of a flogger until later, but Medic needed it early. He was already punishing himself too much, the years of being told that he was unnatural having taken their toll. A penance that could be healed by the Medigun was better than one that would linger poisonously in his mind.

I pull out my hankerchief, and wipe his face. “There, lapin. All your sins are forgiven. Look how much stronger you have become, how much more you can endure. You have done very well.” He’s still dazed, but I get a weak smile of gratitude. It’s true, he is a little better every time we do this. He may not understand my methods, but I think, deep down, he knows that I will set him free.

“It is time for something new.” That, and his master’s needs must be attended to. I’m sure I could order him to do anything and he would obey, but I am not so cruel. We will start with something simple. I undo my belt and unzip my pants, and as I slip my underwear down out of the way, his gaze drops to the floor, his face red with embarrassment.

Old habits die hard. This kind of shame will not do at all. I quickly grab his collar and jerk it back up; a sharp reprimand, one I have not had to use in some time. “Do not look away,” I say in a cutting tone. “There is nothing of interest on the floor. Look at me, and nothing else.” He’s afraid. He still wants to please me, in any way he can, but the reaction was instinctive. Just another thing I will have to break him of in the future. His eyes stay on my face, but I direct his head with the collar and force him to look at my crotch.

“I am going to teach you something good, lapin,” I say softly. “It is nothing to be scared of. You have earned this.” His eyes flicker back to mine for a second. He’s trembling now out of terror, out of the force of every voice in his head that tells him it is disgusting and wrong. And against that there is my one voice, my commands.

“Open your mouth, and close your eyes. Keep your teeth out of the way, and be careful. Forget everything, and only listen to me.” It’s a testament to the power I have over him that he obeys, in spite of his fears. I guide his head towards me, and let my erection touch his waiting lips. He flinches, but I am ready for that. I stroke the back of his neck, and gently encourage him on. “It is alright, lapin. I know you want this. Don’t be afraid.”

He takes me into his mouth. I can feel his tongue moving, tasting. I let him get used to it, even though my own desires are swiftly rising against my self-control. He’s still clinging to my leg, and I can feel the short, hard breaths from his nose on my skin. “Good, very good. Now, bob your head a little, and run your tongue around me… yes, just like that. Easy, isn’t it? You are doing so well, lapin, and you learn so fast…”

I keep up the stream of soft instruction, and he relaxes into it slowly. He certainly won’t be able to take me all the way into his throat today, but someday he will. I let myself relax a little too, and enjoy the feeling. It’s pleasurable, yes, but I love the power more than the sensation. Any fool can give and receive pleasure, but there is not one in ten thousand who can truly shape a man, knock down the walls inside his head, and build him back up into someone better, stronger. The Nazis and their idiotic ideas of eugenics had failed Medic badly. I would not.

My reverie is broken by a quiet moan. His grip is a little tighter, and his cheeks have grown hot. I suspect he wants more encouragement; I run both hands through his hair, and thrust just a little, and whisper filthy things to him in French. He responds better than I expected, making faint, delicious noises and pressing his chest against my thigh. I can see the desire running through his veins from the way he sucks and licks, almost choking himself trying to satisfy the long-buried craving of a lifetime. For a moment, the other voices are silent, and he knows only me.

I feel myself getting close to orgasm. Much as I’d like to just… no, not today. I tug the collar, and pull him off. He looks up at me, worried that he’s done something wrong, but I only smile. “That is enough, lapin, I am very pleased with you. You are not ready for what comes next.”

He doesn’t release his hold on my leg. He whimpers, and strains against the collar. His tongue can just barely reach my erection, and he gasps for it like a man dying of thirst. “P-please,” he whispers. “Please, Master.” His eyes are hazy, but they beg me to let go. He doesn’t have any words for what he wants. He simply trusts that I know, and I will do what is best.

I make a decision quickly. His bravery is gratifying; I’ve done well with his training. I lift up his chin, and run my thumb over his mouth. “Be ready to swallow, then. You may gag, and you must try to control the reflex.” I take my hand off the collar, and I catch the delight on his face before he wraps his lips around my dick again. His hands twist into the fabric of my pants, and I feel him go a little deeper. The lack of experience shows, but he tries to make up for it with fresh enthusiasm. I don’t really mind.

When he looks up at me, and I see the worship shining in his eyes, my blood surges and I have just enough time to hiss a warning before I come. He swallows some, chokes on the rest, and it dribbles down his chin and onto my shoes. Not bad for his first time; it leaves me feeling warm and euphoric, and him moaning in contentment as he licks me clean. After he has attended to my rather expensive Italian loafers, he cuddles up to my leg and presses his nose into my crotch. I’m more pleased than I can say. This is wonderful progress.

I brace myself with one hand on the wall, just to stay upright, while I recover. My smile tells him that I am happy, and this makes him happy. I sit on the bed, and direct him to lie beside me while I do up my pants and shed my jacket. I pull his head into my lap and cradle him there; he’d doze off like this, but I have other plans before that happens. He deserves a token of my affection, a reward for what he has accomplished tonight.

He watches me as I pull off my gloves, and roll up one sleeve. “You exceed all my expectations,” I say fondly. “When I think of what you were, and what you have become… I am so proud of you, lapin.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. “I have a special gift for you.”

I start at his chest, and run my hand down to his navel. I have clever fingers, and years of practice with them in this respect. When I finally stop teasing him and start stroking the hot flesh between his legs, it’s as if he’s been electrocuted. He moans and thrusts insensibly, grasping my shirt and my other arm as I hold him close. At the end, I can barely hold him down; he gives a long, weak, desperate cry as the orgasm splatters out of my grip. I draw it out as far as I can. He has earned the best of my skill tonight.

I bring my sticky fingers up to his mouth, and he sucks on them greedily. I can feel his racing heart shaking his body, and see the pulse twitching in his neck. He’s properly overwhelmed; sweaty, exhausted, and ready to drift off into pleasant, dream-filled sleep. I smooth the damp hair away from his forehead, and watch his heaving chest calm down.

“I love you,” he murmurs indistinctly, on the edge of consciousness. “I love you so much…”

He doesn’t see how broadly I smile down at him. “I know, lapin. I know.”


End file.
